


flurries in our eyes.

by Thri_here



Category: Naruto, Sasusaku - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blank Period, Canon-Compliant, F/M, I'll tag, Maybe - Freeform, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Shippuden, Romance, SasuSaku - Freeform, just in case Boruto pulls anything, post-epilogue, post-the last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thri_here/pseuds/Thri_here
Summary: "Is that what we are?' he asks.His tone rakes at her throat like nails, and any concept of words gets caught in Sakura's throat. She pulls cotton candy hair out of it's low ponytail--the threads of it stinging at her nape--for extra warmth.With a small, practiced smile, she looks over her shoulder, "What you want us to be."
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	flurries in our eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt generator said "what you want us to be"
> 
> :)

"It must be so weird having a former team mate for a plus-one, Sasuke-kun," Sakura laughs, turning her back on the poncho-clad Uchiha, assessing the newly fallen snow building a thin layer over the grey-white pavements.

Snow descends around them in a slow rapport, some of it crunching under the soles of her boots. A dark coat over crimson rimmed sundress is something no medic should be seen with in this disasterous weather, and she half-chuckles at the remainder of Tsunade's blithe dismissal.

But Naruto wanted his housewarming in winter with Sasuke in town, and a winter housewarming he will have if a spring wedding had to flow by sans the Uchiha. Then the mission at the Daimyo's court comes along.

"Is that what we are?' he asks.

His tone rakes at her throat like nails, and any concept of words gets caught in Sakura's throat. She pulls cotton candy hair out of it's low ponytail--the threads of it stinging at her nape--for extra warmth.

With a small, practiced smile, she looks over her shoulder, "What you want us to be."

When Sasuke hums, it's a slow, non-committal thing. As if he didn't make a military tattoo against her chest.

He takes short, regulated strides through the symmetrical paths, right on her heels.

"Aren't you tired of waiting?"

The glaring lights of operation theatres blink under her eyelids, the damp peach of the hospital walls and the offending bleeps of monitors, vials, tubes. Phantom chakra thrums beneath her skin, coiling and focusing into her fingertips, and even revolving around the balls of her feet, eyes closed, she can see the cool verdant shade etched into her memory.

"This?"-- _Us_ \--"Why would I be?" Sakura tilts her head slightly, mustering up the smallest smile that refuses to reach her eyes. They are better closed.

And then she thinks of a damp studio apartment two blocks across the hospital, its tawny tables coated in a layer of dust, whispering of days without anybody to rest on them, and ceiling fans creaking. The untouched albums decorated in Uchiwa fans that will probably always remain so, and the sunlight that peeks through a perfect slit in the curtains.

Dark traveling cloaks loom over the albums in the austere closet, instant noodle packets always dotting the little space her eyes allow her to observe before whirling her head away after setting the Ichiraku take-out for one down gently on the table. 

She needed to go her merry way.

"I haven't been trying, exactly," she admits, ears meeting shoulders as she tries to shrug naturally, "I tell myself I'm busy."

"You are," he says, taking half a step forward, steps not regulated or slow anymore.

"I am." Sakura agrees, traitorous body unconsciously leaning in for what little warmth ten meters can provide, "I never tried either."

Sasuke raises one dark eyebrow in a show of exaggerated disbelief.

Laughter bubbles up in her throat, unclogging the mental block it had hit.

"Kakashi-sensei _politely requests_ me to run to your abode when you're back. There's not much to do when your Hokage gives you breaks." Sakura smiles, almost bright, hands clasped behind her, "And the take-outs were Naruto pushing me. Hmm, _what_ exactly can give it away, I wonder? Ichiraku's?"

A small smile makes its way to rest on the Uchiha's face, straightens, sharpens into a smirk that would be mistaken for a thin press of the lips. And Sakura has to remind herself that Uchiha Sasuke didn't _do_ smiles.

"Like now?" he asks, low, nipping at his chapped lower lips lightly.

Sakura's breath catches.

He doesn't realize what it's doing to her, she realizes. How far are they? How many steps?

Sasuke dips his head in question slightly, tousling the well-placed hair to his right. 

Iridescent greens meet the rings of the rinnengan retreating into itself, light hitting minute specks of snow just so that it freezes in front of the purple in between. Sakura bites the urge to brush it away completely down, balls of her feet vaguely rocking back and forth.

"Whatever you want it to be." she hears herself shrugging, and it comes out too breathy, too quick. 

It doesn't sound real to her own ears.

Metal chimes looped on planks supporting somebody's roof tattles into wind.

Sasuke takes a step closer, deliberate and eyes trained on hers.

Abruptly, he ducks his head.

Sakura licks her lips.

Three meters.

"After all this time," Sasuke begins, nimble fingers untying the sideways knots of his poncho systematically, "...after all this time," he says again, and it might be that she imagined the light chuckle.

Words aren't Sasuke's strong suit, so she doesn't let the moment break. Pale hands are molten rocks in the damp chill against her exposed throat tilted upwards, meeting deep onyx.

"It should be what _you_ want it to be." he finally mouths.

Steady arms wrap around her and Sakura squeaks, refraining from activating her fight or flight mechanisms. Sasuke's arms loop around her shoulders, dark poncho softly settling on her shoulders.

She automatically clasps it together at the centers of her clavicle, and heavy palms rest on hers before tying the knots at the sides of the poncho.

"That's a great design," Sakura blurts out, not knowing how else to process it. "Not your necklaces!" she quickly amends at the Uchiha subconsciously brushing the charms they had given him, "I mean, they're wonderful--" and they are. Three threads,--red, orange, and deep blue are intertwined, popping out against alabaster skin sans the poncho, "But I was talking about the cloak--I mean, the poncho!"

Sasuke remains as unfazed as ever, focusing more on inspecting his work and giving her a curt nod.

Sakura hangs her head in exasperation. At herself or the man before her, she doesn't comprehend.

The distance between them closes in one sweep of Sasuke's feet.

One meter.

She jerks away, only succeeding in throwing her side bangs away from her face, and whips her eyes up to meet the Uchiha's.

Their noses are exactly six centimeters apart, and Sasuke might be able to provide a better measurement with his Sharingan. Even though there is the vast expanse of the road laying ahead of them, the bubble they've woven is tangible.

If Sakura was a romantic _truly_ rivaling Ino, and had she not been gobbling up medical texts for the past five years of her life, then maybe, with the one onyx eye assessing her-- she would have counted his lashes. She would have claimed to melt against his hold, sinking into them.

She wouldn't find her own veridian ones searching his about _how_ exactly the Sharingan morphed into red instead. 

Two fingers meet the purple diamond on her forehead, startling Sakura out of her reverie. She sucks in a breath, eyes almost blown-out wide. The Uchiha then withdraws his index and middle fingers, releasing white-cold exhale into the air--as if in anticipation at the completion of the gesture.

She watches the rise and fall of his chest under the plain, rich blue shirt, Uchiwa fan emblazoned on it.

This is important, she knows. It isn't her being conceited--those options and scenarios her eighteen-year-old self has puzzled and mused over again and again.

Sakura blinks.

"I--" she begins, gently guiding his one arm away, then she asks in a small voice, "Are we...?"

 _Dating?_ The words sit on the tip of her tongue, vibrating. She swallows them thickly, clamps them down to the back of her throat.

Snow crumbles down progressively heavier, setting itself softly on her heating ears.

Words aren't Sasuke's strong suit.

Sakura allows herself to smile, slow and steady, lips stretching over pale, previously cold skin. Her jaw feels like she's bitten them from the insides, like cold winters where a particularly tricky case would turn up at the hospital step, and she would beckon the blood vessels to rush into her warmth bereft cheeks, conserving insulating chakra.

Words aren't Sasuke's strong suit, so the pinkette threads her finger with Sasuke's, warmth crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Strands of black dance around his sternocleidomastoid, a stark contrast to the flush of scarlet at the tip of his ears.

"Would you like some tea?" she offers, squeezing his index finger with her own, "As thanks for the poncho-- I have a free afternoon."

This time when Sasuke dips his head, gaze flickering between the path ahead and candy-floss locks, and attempts to retreat under some of his hair with the pretense of hiding the rinnengan, it isn't deliberate or calculated.

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea how this happened?? I'm not one to write shippy stuff tbh but this just crash-landed into my brain and demanded I write.


End file.
